


Something Absolutely Human

by LilyTheRose



Category: Bendy and the Ink Machine
Genre: Gen, Henry knows about the cycle, Redemption, Scary thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-24
Updated: 2021-02-24
Packaged: 2021-03-15 05:15:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,071
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29678973
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LilyTheRose/pseuds/LilyTheRose
Summary: Nothing sparks human sympathy- in strangers, friends, rivals, former cowers turned opponents, quite like crying.
Relationships: Sammy Lawrence & Henry Stein
Kudos: 11





	Something Absolutely Human

**Author's Note:**

> I might have taken myself too seriously on this one, but for once I'm going to post without trying to make it perfect.

“Rest your head, it’s time for bed…”  


Henry had heard it so many times. Why in the world did hearing his old friend laugh at his impending death never cease to sting?  


His head ached hot and sharp as the light stabbed into his eyes. The pain in his head always came before feeling the stiffness in his wrists where they were tied.  


“There we go, nice and tight.”  


Henry recited it in his mind as Sammy spoke, rolling his red eyes as a last means of defense. The swelling where he fell on his face just made it painful. He couldn’t even manage to fall on his back for once.  


“We wouldn’t want our sheep roaming away now, would we? No. No we wouldn’t.”  


“Sammy…” Henry muttered, his face heating from blood beginning to rush as he went limp against the ropes. Henry had tried everything he could think of, but Sammy hardly ever showed a hint of who he used to be for more than a moment, and it never changed anything. Like Henry expected, Sammy paused for a second hearing his name, then it was swallowed by the ink.  


“I must admit I am honored you came all the way down here to visit me. It almost makes what I’m about to do seem… cruel.”  


Cruel. Words could melt together and lose their meaning in the ink, but Sammy knew what he was saying. Henry’s memories were forced back decades again, showing him the same thing over and over just to prove a point, that Sammy had never been like this, even on the worst days.  


“But believers must honor their savoir,” Sammy continued. “I must have him notice me.” Like always, Sammy set down the ax against the wooden beam, turned, and stopped for a moment.  


“Wait… You look familiar to me. That face…”  


Sammy lifted Henry’s face to get a clearer look and let it drop again, air pressing out of Henry’s lungs with the half-fall as if it were trying to kill him in a way the ink couldn’t steal.  


“Not now,” Sammy said to himself.  


Then when? Henry wondered silently, too tired to pull back a breath right away. 

“Our lord is calling to us my little sheep. The time of sacrifice is at hand. Then I will finally be free from this inky abyss I call a body.”  


At least Sammy finished his speech with less pause when Henry didn’t put up a fight.  


“Listen…” Sammy remarked as the room began to fall in shadow. “I can hear him crawling above. The ritual must be completed,” he said with a trace of hurry, moving for the door as he finished his monologue. “He will hear me. He will set us free.”  


Those words should have blended together until they faded from screaming to silence; for Henry to start moving again or wait and try fruitlessly to rest at the cost of falling to the ink demon and starting over again. But they pierced through his mind, clear and real and crushing.  


Something broke with that.  


As Henry took a breath, it came in sharply. Quickly, piercing against his ribs and shooting up in his throat. It began to tingle and burn, creeping up to his eyes. He didn’t want to waste energy but it wasn’t his decision anymore.  


The cold of the basement flew away from his face as warm, pale tears slid down his face, clinging to his chin, finally dripping to the floor. Funny, it was about the only thing he had left that hadn’t been stained with the ink. Not even his blood could match it’s purity. Maybe it was something he learned from being in the army or being a father, but nothing in the studio had managed to draw out weeping.  


The disease didn’t stop to celebrate its victory, clawing its way deeper, getting stronger. His head pounded, his eyes swelled and reddened, his nose filled and blocked off, forcing him to breath through his mouth, spitting and gasping with every inhale. Something deep and unchangeable, in his programming or instinct or whatever it was supposed to be, refused to let him give up, refused to stop calling for help, for hope.  


The room went still and calm and quiet as the pulsing heat from his face briefly stopped for air, settling into a warmth that battled the cold of the room most effectively. Sammy had stopped at opening the door, his back to Henry. He glanced back, expressionless behind his mask. Then looked over at the ax. 

Henry squeezed his burning eyes shut. Just let me start over, he silently begged. Let me just stay at the ground floor, don’t make me watch you all die again, please.  


But he didn’t want to wait out his days at the start of the cycle. He wanted to go home, to tell his family he was still alive, to get an anchor on having a real heartbeat and jump back to get everyone back to the humans they were always supposed to be…. He needed something, anything to prove what the wall of the room Sammy always died in insisted- that they weren’t just monsters. 

The utter silence of the place, almost constantly croaking and buzzing with drops of ink and creaks of the floor, made the noise of his sobbing just humiliating, but it still didn't cease. His programming didn’t slow down to wait for the sting of the ax. It refused to stop pulling against the rope which was sworn to hold until it was too late.  


Then the rope gave.  


Henry fell onto his knees with the force he had been fighting back, just catching himself on his scarred and re-scarred hands. He blinked and wiped his face, beating with soreness and heat, to clear what he was seeing. The thin layer that sat between the burning heat and chilling cold carefully spread out, letting him breath stably again. But not before launching one more flare for help in the form of tears.  


He could see something radiate past Sammy’s forgotten face, unshielded by his mask which he held uncertainty a few inches to the side. He kneeled down in front of Henry when he couldn't make himself stand.  


“Henry?” Sammy asked quietly. His ruined eyes didn’t cry anymore, but he still recognised the sight. He didn’t know how he had forgotten it. “Are you alright?”


End file.
